


Something Akin To Love

by ScarletteStar1



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, Ficlets, Hannibal/Will - Freeform, Hannigram - Freeform, Love, Lust, M/M, Multi, Oral, Pining, all the weirdness that is this amazingly beautiful show, lots of oral cuz hannibal is fiendishly oral..., one offs, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-11-24 00:10:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18158870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Summary: Bite sized nuggets of Hannibal fic, served up for your enjoyment in no particular order, other than that which piques my curiosity and whim. . .  lengths and ratings will vary.





	1. Unburden

Bedelia joined Hannibal on the balcony. “Sulking does not become you,” she handed him a glass of white wine. 

“Mrs. Fell, Mrs. Fell, I fear you know me all too well,” Hannibal smiled as he accepted the stem of the cool glass between his thumb and fingers. He rolled it back and forth slightly prior to raising it to his lips. Though it was a familiar and preferred vintage, he did not skip past his ritual of dipping his nose toward the lip of the goblet so he could nuzzle the fragrance it offered. 

“You are so close to being captured and you recite nursery rhymes?” Her voice did not break in its placid tone, volume, or cadence. 

“I am close to being discovered, yes. Captured? We shall see about that.” His smile became smug, or at the very least, self satisfied. They took in the splendor of the Florentine sunset as they contemplated the difference between discovery and capture. 

“And when you are discovered? Then what? What, pray tell, has my darling husband planned?” She blinked several times at him. He stroked the line of her jaw and tucked a lock of her platinum hair behind her ear. 

“Time will tell,” Hannibal tutted. “You’ll have to wait for its story to ripen to perfect succulence just like everyone else.” He pushed out his lips in a playful pout and raised his eyebrows at her. 

“Do you want me to guess?”

“You could try.”

“We’ve already had nursery rhymes, and now you want to play guessing games? You’re being petulant. Does your little mood have anything to do with seeing Will Graham today?” 

Hannibal gave Bedelia a crooked smile and closed his eyes. “How well you know your patient. How well you’ve always known your patient.”

“What was it like? Seeing him again after so much blood has flowed beneath the proverbial bridge?” Bedelia examined his profile in the golden light. 

“It was. . .” Hannibal began and exhaled mightily. “It was like a feast for my soul. It was like I was taking nourishment from a sacred banquet hall. . . just to see him.” He paused for a moment and looked over to find Bedelia studying him. “You know I used to watch him sleep?” 

“I can only imagine,” she said. “Any verse written by any great poet would lack the guided luster of whatever it is you hide for that man, deep inside of your tar-black heart.” She took a step toward him and placed a hand on his chest. She noticed his nostrils flare.

“The cologne is no good,” he sighed and eyed her as he sipped his wine. 

“Whatever do you mean, my dear Dr. Fell?”

“It is a lovely scent you’ve chosen, but it does not hide your fear.”

“I do not know what you think you smell on me, but it is not fear.” Bedelia brought her glass to her crimson lips. Her pupils were well dilated, Hannibal noticed. She’d been medicating herself just as he’d prescribed. 

“Well, if I am wrong about that, then you are wrong about me sulking. Truth is, I’m not.”

“Can it be possible we are both wrong?” Bedelia practically chuckled, but her face barely broke its composure. Hannibal looked out over the city of Florence, toward the horizon, toward the water. The sun was sinking and the sky was tinged pink and orange. The clouds looked like colorful scoops of sorbet. 

“Do you remember our sessions, back in Maryland, when we’d share a glass of wine and I’d unburden myself to you?” 

“Would you care to unburden yourself?” She leaned against the stone wall of the balcony, head tilted up almost defiantly at him. It made him smile. 

“I don’t think so,” he sighed. 

“Are you restless?”

“No,” he considered the beads of condensation on his glass and shook his head. “It is something very unfamiliar stirring in me.”

“Something you’ve never before had opportunity to feel?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a broken heart,” Bedelia whispered as she walked back into the house of Dr. and Mrs. Fell. She whispered it so softly, Hannibal was almost uncertain she’d said anything at all.


	2. Fade Into You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Will remembers things Hannibal has done to him while under the influence. . . and he tries to decide if he minds very much or. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dubious consent and drugs in this chapter... if that is a trigger for you, please take care of yourself. xox.

Memories fluttered like birds across the sky of his mind.

They could not be trusted. And yet. . .

And yet, there was something completely solid and real about them.

They were more real than anything Will had known for months.

In the FBI men’s room he unzipped his fly to piss and the sound triggered something. Suddenly, he was in the chair in his psychiatrist’s office.

But it wasn’t really his psychiatrist, because they were just having “talks.”

Lights flashed and a needle pinched in his inner arm. Of course he’d never bother to look for the mark later because he’d trusted the man, his doctor (but not really his doctor because they were just having their “talks” and that was all).

It was as simple as that.

Zip. Flash. Pinch.

A flurry of feathers came flying at him, seemingly out of nowhere.

Or maybe he’d gotten the order wrong. Maybe it was more, flash, pinch, zip. . . and then?

He returned to his desk and felt a heaviness in his groin and a heat in his abdomen.  He ran his hand through his hair and tried to breathe. Why was the zip echoing in his mind? His eyes closed. His knees spread.

In psychiatric terminology, depersonalization means to stop thinking of yourself as yourself and to think of yourself as something else. It is a persistent feeling of observation from a hovering plane of existence above oneself. For exactly how long, Will wondered, had he felt unlike himself? For exactly how long had he observed himself to be walking among a different plane of existence as a different being altogether?

“You are becoming only what you are meant to become,” the lilting voice said. “Do not fear this.” Will felt the hands of the other stroke his neck, his shoulders, his head, from behind. He was sitting in a chair. He was sitting in the chair in Dr. Lecter’s office.

“What will you do to me?” Will gasped. He was frightened, desperate, and yet paralyzed to do anything about it. Pinch.

“I will take your pain away and make you feel so, so nice. You will like it. I know.” Hannibal’s voice was smooth and sweet like a milk chocolate truffle in Will’s throat. He appeared before Will’s face. His hands were on Will’s knees, and then up his thighs. Zip.

Will’s head rolled against the back of the seat. “I don’t. . .” he breathed. “I’m not. . .” he tried to explain.

Hannibal shushed him. “It matters not to me what you define yourself as, Will Graham,” he pulled Will’s boxers down and Will’s dick sprang forth. Fuck, he was hard. He was hard already and where he was seeping at his tip, he felt the coolness of the room hit him and he shivered. Hannibal’s face wove in and out of Will’s field of vision. “Oh, yes,” Hannibal cooed and licked his lips. He wrapped his fingers around Will’s shaft. “Look at me, Will. Mmmmh, yes, there you are. I want to suck you. It would give me so much pleasure, but not if it is completely against your own desire. Do you want to come? For me? In me? Tell me you do, Will. Tell me.”

“Ye- yes,” Will muttered and tore his gaze away from Hannibal’s. He threw his head back against the chair and thrust himself up in Hannibal’s hand.

The flashing had long since ceased, and yet, when Hannibal finally lapped against the bottom of Will’s head, all Will saw was bright light behind his eyes. In the darkened proscenium of his mind, shadows created patterns that changed with the waves of sensation radiating from where Hannibal’s mouth was on him. He felt it flow up into his abdomen in warm ripples. It palpitated his heart. It squeezed his throat. He raised his head and looked down to see Hannibal bobbing up and down on him, gently, expertly. Hannibal’s eyes were closed, yet even without the window to his soulless soul, there was such a look of devotion writ there. Will didn’t trust his own fingers, and yet he found they fluttered out to touch the sides of Hannibal’s face, the corners of his eyes, where little lines seemed to hide stories.

At his touch, Hannibal opened his eyes and looked up at Will. He smiled around Will’s prick and increased both his speed and suction so Will groaned helplessly and fell back against the chair. He felt himself encased in the depths of Hannibal’s throat, felt Hannibal swallow greedily around him, and it felt so tight and warm and better than anything he’d ever known. Will’s traitorous fingers reached out again to flicker through Hannibal’s downy hair. He could not make his fingers grasp or pull it as he wanted. Somehow his fingers were like blocks of wood he could not completely control, but they felt the softness of Hannibal’s hair all the same, and in the dark, depths of Will’s mind, he wondered about textures on other places of Hannibal’s body, but then he was being sucked harder and faster and there was nothing else to think of. There was only Hannibal’s mouth, his tongue, his teeth, as they devoured Will.

“Close,” Will gasped to warn Hannibal. But Hannibal did not seem interested in pulling away from him. In fact, Hannibal took him even deeper and as he did, he wove his hands around Will’s waist, holding him as close as he could, pressing his fingers into the small of Will’s back. When Will came, it was with such a shattering pressure, he imagined he could hear his climax as it spurted out against the back of Hannibal’s soft palate. Will’s breath came in huge, lusty gulps as Hannibal took it all and did not move away for quite some time. He kept Will in his mouth for several long moments, savoring him, until he began to soften. Then he sat back on his heels in front of Will, hands on Will’s knees, and gazed up at him with bleary eyes and a smug smile.

There was a click. The flashing began again.

Sitting at his desk, Will shook an aspirin out of a bottle and popped it into his mouth. The bitterness dissolved over his tongue.

“Good afternoon, Will,” Hannibal had appeared at his door. Will looked up, surprised. “Are you feeling alright? You look as though you’re coming down with something.”

“What are you doing to me?” Will hissed and stood from his chair. He felt disoriented.

“Whatever do you mean?” Hannibal stepped toward him. Hannibal put a cool hand on Will’s cheek. “You feel feverish,” he said softly. Will grabbed his hand. He meant to grab it and to shove it away, but when he felt Hannibal’s fingers they were ever so soft and he remembered there were questions he had. He felt himself fading into Hannibal’s shadow, and then he felt himself wearing Hannibal’s face.

He found he did not mind it so much after all. He found, as he stood there, holding Hannibal’s hand, that it was very much like holding his own fingers and he wondered what he could make them do. “You’re right,” Will said. “I guess I don’t feel that well.”

“Perhaps we should get you home and tucked up in bed? Make you some soup?” Hannibal cocked his head and Will mirrored the motion.

“Yeah,” Will nodded in agreement. Hannibal waited as he gathered up his things. Then Will followed Hannibal out of the office.


	3. Little Death of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Will wakes and Hannibal is there....

Will woke.

He was on his stomach, in his bed.

He was hard. Peculiarly hard.

While it was not unusual for him to wake in a state of arousal, he woke now with his cock sandwiched between the soft, worn out sheets that covered his mattress and his stomach, in an almost achingly desperate state of need.

He tried to remember his dreams. All was black. Black as the stag who used to visit him so often but rarely came around these days.

He moved his hips, up and down, and rubbed his wanting erection against his bed.

As his senses gathered themselves into a bouquet of feeling, he realized he was not alone.

He opened his eyes.

“Hannibal,” he whispered.

“Hello Will,” he replied simply. He idly stroked over Will’s hip and down toward his ass. “Don’t stop what you were about to do on my account,” he murmured and brought his face close to Will on the pillow so he could nuzzle his nose.

“What are you— the dogs didn’t. . .” Will said, but he was almost hypnotized by the circular stroking Hannibal was giving his ass, bringing up all the sweet, delicate nerves with his adoring touch.

“I brought them some treats. They were not alarmed, nor should you be,” Hannibal said and kissed Will’s forehead. His voice was fuzzy and filled Will’s ears like antler velvet. Will rotated his hips against the sheets and moaned as he felt Hannibal’s hand slice through the firm lobes of his ass, fingers searching. “That’s it,” Hannibal urged him on.

“Ohhh, fuck, Hannibal,” Will growled as he felt himself leak against his stomach. It wouldn’t take long. “What are you doing here?”

“I was curious,” Hannibal sighed and licked his tongue across Will’s lips then nipped at the line of his chin, but gently, hardly moving at all.

“About what?”

“I wanted to know what Will Graham looks like when he experiences his moment of purest pleasure.”

“Oh, fuck, of god,” Will groaned as Hannibal’s fingers pressed in, slow and gentle but absolutely persistent.

“Don’t hold it back,” Hannibal soothed and inched closer to the spot he sought inside of Will. “I know you need it desperately. I know you want it. I know you are there. . . there.”

Will moved slightly faster, rubbing and rutting against the bed. When he came, he opened his eyes and his mouth and felt the hitch of his heart and his breath as he fell head first into the glowing, amber depths of Hannibal’s eyes. Hannibal watched with wide eyes and tight lips, but an otherwise bland expression, as Will spurted again and again beneath himself. Will swallowed hard. “You’ll be the death of me,” he gasped.

“Yes,” Hannibal agreed. “But not tonight and not right now. For right now, only little deaths. Little, spectacular, beautiful, breathtaking deaths for my eyes only, Will.” Hannibal rubbed his hand in slow circles over the small of Will’s back and kissed his face all over and Will closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are most welcomed and inspiring. . . prompts may also be considered. Thank you so much for stopping by.


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